Truth is a fruit
Planted in the orchard
Pluck and eat!
Falsehood is a delicacy
Cooked in a pot
Served when hot!
Soured fruits corrodes the mouth,
Taste bids filled with bitterness
Yet healing it nourishes the body.
Delicacies and condiments
Flavoured, spiced and garnished.
The belly it upsets
Till the anus cries out for mercy.
With the tightening if lips
And a frown on the face,
Bitterness will be learnt to savour.
No more spoonful;
Garnished and spiced.
No more spoonful
To run the anus to cries.
Enough!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem